The Whiner of Our Discontent.
WARNING: The contents of this post are pretty textbook first-year-philosophy-"what's-the-meaning-of-life"-as-seen-through-the-eyes-of-disaffected-youth crap - except I'm 34 years old and I'm still fucking pissed off at the shitty pointlessness (and pointless shittiness) of life, and my ever-thwarted attempts to escape it or at least rise above it.
(Decide from that whether you want to read further. Judge me however you like, at least you'll know what's going on in my head.)
So, I've been trying to hide it, but I've been in a kind-of shitty mood the last little while. Wasn't really sure why, but I've been doing some thinking about it, and observation of my own reactions to things (ie. what gets me angry or annoyed) and it basically comes down to:
I'm disappointed with life.
Whee, how "emo". Actually, "disappointed with life" isn't really right. Life can be pretty fuckin' cool, honestly - but those bits are few and far between, often outweighed by the crap you have to endure just to get those glimpses of joy. I could say "disappointed with my life", but that doesn't really convey the full story, because a lot of the things that I don't like in my life are things that I don't like about most people's lives, the stuff we all have to endure - about what "life" has come to mean, not the celebration of existence that it should be, but a long and carefully-monitored prison term within the careful bounds of the law and social expectations and the myriad of other restrictions.
Partly it was triggered by the peasant choruses in "Don Carlo", and thinking about what a shit life that must have been, how much work and how little reward, with hardly any of even the simplest of life's joys; partly by my recent frustrating experiences at work; partly by some financial and vacation planning I've been doing, and struggling with how to find the money and time to do the things that I want to do; partly thinking about the list of personal projects I have amassed, and how impossible it seems for me to find the time to do ANY of them; and partly because I often feel like much of the time I might have is bled away by stupid chores and other unwanted but "necessary" expectations on my precious time.
Yesterday I spent some time looking at all the stuff I need or want to do before Christmas, and I think that's highlighted to me exactly how much of my life is not my own - how much time I spend doing shit that is "necessary" but, in some way or another, time that I could be using to do something interesting, and meaningful, or at the very least enjoyable - instead of just slogging through banal, meaningless crap that is nothing more than a waste of the precious time I have before I am dead.
Let's start with work. Regardless of my "contribution to society" - a self-sustaining make-work project to keep most humans from getting in trouble while they pointlessly reproduce, as far as I can tell - and the occasionally kinda-neat things I get to do, "working" is a waste of my life, the only purpose of which is to earn me money so I can enjoy the parts of my life where I'm NOT working. And based on what that money can buy, compared to all that I want in this life, it's a dead fucking end. If the point of work is just to make money to enjoy the rest of my life, then I am doing something WAY fucking wrong. Why am I working in a job that required a MINIMUM of 45h/week, and pays me a measly thousand bucks or so for that time (which I know is a lot more than many people, but $1000/week in return for one quarter of my life - and over 1/3 of my waking life - spent doing shit I'd never do if I didn't need money? FUCK YOU!) Not to mention the time and money I spend in school beforehand, just for the "privilege" of having such a "good" job.
Another 30% is spent sleeping. This is a biological function, can't really get away without that. But it does take a lot of time, which gives me less to put towards other things. There's shopping and cooking and cleaning and fixing things and a seemingly endless barrage of chores and shit that demands more of the precious few hours of my life that I have left. That's not even including things like exercise, which I can't even find time to schedule DESPITE HOW IMPORTANT IT IS TO MY HEALTH. How fucked up is that? That I have to put other things before my health? That I'm too busy living to find time to keep myself alive? FUCK YOU.
And then, the real kicker. As far as I can tell, there are no gods (capitalized, pluralized, or otherwise), there is no after-life, there is purpose or reason to our existence as human beings as a race; and even as individuals, our only purpose is to reproduce, to pointlessly continue our race - and I'm pretty much removed from even that small directive of this ridiculous existence. Yet, despite that crushing thought, I still, somehow, have dreams and goals and desires to try and accomplish SOMETHING of worth with this otherwise worthless life, to bring some joy and sense of purpose to myself, and others, and maybe even the barren wastes of being human in general.
As far as I can tell, that's a pretty noble purpose - to provide some distraction, for myself and others, from the crushing determinism of this earthly prison, with no hope of escape or parole or anything other than what you already know and see around you. SO WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO FUCKING HARD TO FIND TIME TO DO IT? Was I sick that day when they implanted the chips in everyone's brains? Because everyone's so fucking busy just trying to LIVE, to fill our positions in this self-perpetuating biological machine, and all of the damn tasks and jobs we've been assigned in some way or another in order to support the minutest functioning of this all-important pointlessness, that we've got precious little time to do anything else, anything that might at least give us the vaguest sensation of there being a REASON for all of this meaningless fucking SHIT drudgery that we're forced to do all the fucking time!
I had such big fucking dreams. I should have known that there isn't any way out. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall", I guess. Life is fucking killing me. (Ha ha. At least my own dark humour is a bit of a distraction.)
So what do I do? I won't just kill myself (in case anyone's worried) - I want MORE life, not LESS, and I still hold hope that there is a way to get to more of the good stuff in life, without slogging through so much of the crap. I just gotta figure out how.
Prioritizing, it always comes down to that - something that I'm not very good at, and that I don't really like doing. And this is prioritizing on a much higher level than I usually have to.
I've got to get myself into a job that I enjoy, that I at least find to have a POINT, something that I will find fulfilling, not just something that gives me money in exchange for time. Entertainment, maybe education, I think it's gotta be in those arenas - something where I am helping people, where what I do brings some joy or happiness or hope to others, where I will leave a lasting impression that improves their lives - providing a distraction from their shit existence, or some hope of improvement (because I know things get a lot shittier than what I have experienced, and frankly, I couldn't handle that.)
I think that's the only way. I can't stop sleeping, I can't stop eating or doing chores, as much as I hate them - any way I can think of to get away from them is going to hold serious penalties in some other way, penalties that are going to be even more counter-productive to my goal of "more happy time".
The short list of jobs that I think might work for me: musician/stage entertainer of some sort, motivational speaker, school teacher, therapist, author/songwriter, designer (clothing/home furnishings/architect/etc. - something where my creativity and aesthetics would bring excitement to something that brings happiness and comfort to people), chef/caterer, actor (stage/TV/movie/voice), bar owner/event producer (could I throw parties for a living?), owning my own business.
Anyone who knows me will see that many of those things are represented in the list of things I already do for fun in my spare time. Now weed out the ones that take a lot of time (even if I love my job, I know I will always have other things I want to do), and ones that don't pay very well. What am I left with? Not a fucking lot, it seems.
It should not be this fucking hard to be happy.
B.
(Decide from that whether you want to read further. Judge me however you like, at least you'll know what's going on in my head.)
So, I've been trying to hide it, but I've been in a kind-of shitty mood the last little while. Wasn't really sure why, but I've been doing some thinking about it, and observation of my own reactions to things (ie. what gets me angry or annoyed) and it basically comes down to:
I'm disappointed with life.
Whee, how "emo". Actually, "disappointed with life" isn't really right. Life can be pretty fuckin' cool, honestly - but those bits are few and far between, often outweighed by the crap you have to endure just to get those glimpses of joy. I could say "disappointed with my life", but that doesn't really convey the full story, because a lot of the things that I don't like in my life are things that I don't like about most people's lives, the stuff we all have to endure - about what "life" has come to mean, not the celebration of existence that it should be, but a long and carefully-monitored prison term within the careful bounds of the law and social expectations and the myriad of other restrictions.
Partly it was triggered by the peasant choruses in "Don Carlo", and thinking about what a shit life that must have been, how much work and how little reward, with hardly any of even the simplest of life's joys; partly by my recent frustrating experiences at work; partly by some financial and vacation planning I've been doing, and struggling with how to find the money and time to do the things that I want to do; partly thinking about the list of personal projects I have amassed, and how impossible it seems for me to find the time to do ANY of them; and partly because I often feel like much of the time I might have is bled away by stupid chores and other unwanted but "necessary" expectations on my precious time.
Yesterday I spent some time looking at all the stuff I need or want to do before Christmas, and I think that's highlighted to me exactly how much of my life is not my own - how much time I spend doing shit that is "necessary" but, in some way or another, time that I could be using to do something interesting, and meaningful, or at the very least enjoyable - instead of just slogging through banal, meaningless crap that is nothing more than a waste of the precious time I have before I am dead.
Let's start with work. Regardless of my "contribution to society" - a self-sustaining make-work project to keep most humans from getting in trouble while they pointlessly reproduce, as far as I can tell - and the occasionally kinda-neat things I get to do, "working" is a waste of my life, the only purpose of which is to earn me money so I can enjoy the parts of my life where I'm NOT working. And based on what that money can buy, compared to all that I want in this life, it's a dead fucking end. If the point of work is just to make money to enjoy the rest of my life, then I am doing something WAY fucking wrong. Why am I working in a job that required a MINIMUM of 45h/week, and pays me a measly thousand bucks or so for that time (which I know is a lot more than many people, but $1000/week in return for one quarter of my life - and over 1/3 of my waking life - spent doing shit I'd never do if I didn't need money? FUCK YOU!) Not to mention the time and money I spend in school beforehand, just for the "privilege" of having such a "good" job.
Another 30% is spent sleeping. This is a biological function, can't really get away without that. But it does take a lot of time, which gives me less to put towards other things. There's shopping and cooking and cleaning and fixing things and a seemingly endless barrage of chores and shit that demands more of the precious few hours of my life that I have left. That's not even including things like exercise, which I can't even find time to schedule DESPITE HOW IMPORTANT IT IS TO MY HEALTH. How fucked up is that? That I have to put other things before my health? That I'm too busy living to find time to keep myself alive? FUCK YOU.
And then, the real kicker. As far as I can tell, there are no gods (capitalized, pluralized, or otherwise), there is no after-life, there is purpose or reason to our existence as human beings as a race; and even as individuals, our only purpose is to reproduce, to pointlessly continue our race - and I'm pretty much removed from even that small directive of this ridiculous existence. Yet, despite that crushing thought, I still, somehow, have dreams and goals and desires to try and accomplish SOMETHING of worth with this otherwise worthless life, to bring some joy and sense of purpose to myself, and others, and maybe even the barren wastes of being human in general.
As far as I can tell, that's a pretty noble purpose - to provide some distraction, for myself and others, from the crushing determinism of this earthly prison, with no hope of escape or parole or anything other than what you already know and see around you. SO WHY THE FUCK IS IT SO FUCKING HARD TO FIND TIME TO DO IT? Was I sick that day when they implanted the chips in everyone's brains? Because everyone's so fucking busy just trying to LIVE, to fill our positions in this self-perpetuating biological machine, and all of the damn tasks and jobs we've been assigned in some way or another in order to support the minutest functioning of this all-important pointlessness, that we've got precious little time to do anything else, anything that might at least give us the vaguest sensation of there being a REASON for all of this meaningless fucking SHIT drudgery that we're forced to do all the fucking time!
I had such big fucking dreams. I should have known that there isn't any way out. "The bigger they are, the harder they fall", I guess. Life is fucking killing me. (Ha ha. At least my own dark humour is a bit of a distraction.)
So what do I do? I won't just kill myself (in case anyone's worried) - I want MORE life, not LESS, and I still hold hope that there is a way to get to more of the good stuff in life, without slogging through so much of the crap. I just gotta figure out how.
Prioritizing, it always comes down to that - something that I'm not very good at, and that I don't really like doing. And this is prioritizing on a much higher level than I usually have to.
I've got to get myself into a job that I enjoy, that I at least find to have a POINT, something that I will find fulfilling, not just something that gives me money in exchange for time. Entertainment, maybe education, I think it's gotta be in those arenas - something where I am helping people, where what I do brings some joy or happiness or hope to others, where I will leave a lasting impression that improves their lives - providing a distraction from their shit existence, or some hope of improvement (because I know things get a lot shittier than what I have experienced, and frankly, I couldn't handle that.)
I think that's the only way. I can't stop sleeping, I can't stop eating or doing chores, as much as I hate them - any way I can think of to get away from them is going to hold serious penalties in some other way, penalties that are going to be even more counter-productive to my goal of "more happy time".
The short list of jobs that I think might work for me: musician/stage entertainer of some sort, motivational speaker, school teacher, therapist, author/songwriter, designer (clothing/home furnishings/architect/etc. - something where my creativity and aesthetics would bring excitement to something that brings happiness and comfort to people), chef/caterer, actor (stage/TV/movie/voice), bar owner/event producer (could I throw parties for a living?), owning my own business.
Anyone who knows me will see that many of those things are represented in the list of things I already do for fun in my spare time. Now weed out the ones that take a lot of time (even if I love my job, I know I will always have other things I want to do), and ones that don't pay very well. What am I left with? Not a fucking lot, it seems.
It should not be this fucking hard to be happy.
B.